In a world where vampires rule, Sabine Ambrose wants nothing more than to become one. Disgraced and despondent from her failure to win the heart of the Northern Territories' King Nathaniel Bryce, she sets her sights on the New Orleans, the capital o...
Darkness surrounded me, enveloped me, suffocated me. I was adrift, lost to the world, lost to myself. A vague recollection needled at me, told me that this was death. But if it was, how could I think? How could I be aware enough to feel the darkness?
Something shone in the distance, guiding me like a star. Was this that famed light at the end of the tunnel? If I ran towards it, would I be free of this oppressive darkness? The light drew closer, even though I hadn't moved. It was coming towards me.
Imaged flooded my mind. Visions, memories. Foreign and unfamiliar. They swept over me, pulling me under like the wild current of a raging river.
Darkness...
I stand in the middle of a long, winding road, gazing up at a sky full of stars. Headlights flash in the distance. Anticipation wells within me. The athame appears in my hand and I grip its hilt tightly. The car moves closer. I do not have to see their faces to know it's them. Their blood calls to me like a siren song. I flick my free hand and the car careens off of the road, falling into the ravine. I follow.
My reflection leers at me from the window. My hair is gray and my skin is wrinkled. I am out of breath. No matter, I will be young again tomorrow. I open the door and look upon the man, who pants heavily as blood leaks from a head wound.
"Help, please. My wife..." he implores.
I glance behind him to the woman in the passenger seat. Her neck is twisted and blood coats her freckled skin. She's dead. I wince. It doesn't matter. She's not the one I need. I turn on the man and before he can protest I plunge the athame into his chest. He chokes and sputters as his life force drains through the blade and into me.
Warmth spreads through me and I sigh contentedly. I yank the dagger out. I'm finished here.
The world goes dark.
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I stand with my ear pressed against the door, listening to the sound of muffled voices arguing.
Footsteps bound towards me. I step back but I am not fast enough. The door bursts open and Sheridan stands there, snarling at me with contempt. His hair is disheveled, his eyes surrounded by dark circles, and darker stubble covers his chin. He smells of whiskey and sweat.
"Congratulations," he sneers, pushing past me as he goes off to God knew where.
Darkness falls again, like a curtain on a stage.
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